


The Language of Love

by yoshitakamine



Category: DCAU - Fandom, DCU, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Clark gets suggestive and Bruce Cannot Handle IT......, Crushes, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 12:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshitakamine/pseuds/yoshitakamine
Summary: Bruce and Clark go undercover as supposedly renowned Parisian fashion designers for a mission and it does not go as planned (as always).





	

“You don’t really do this often do you?” Clark asked, sheer amusement laced in his voice.

“No.” Bruce replied, countering the hint of joy in Clark’s voice. He really didn’t. “Giving out fashion advice wasn’t part of the job description.”

“Oh come on.” Clark thought about having fun with this, Bruce was certainly easy to annoy “Wait ‘till you try one of these on later on. The one with the feathers.”

Bruce’s head jerked in his direction, his mouth slightly agape. Every fiber of his being wanted to believe he was joking- and as much of a sick joke- it was still, _not_ a possibility in any realm of existence currently known or otherwise.

“You know-“ Bruce started “I don’t appreciate your sense of humor. Or lack thereof. It was a mistake taking this mission with you.”

Clark rolled his eyes and Bruce was close to lunging for the nearest exit. 

“So how do we look?” One of the petite blonds prompted, snapping them back from whatever dream situation they had put themselves in.

“Beautiful darling…just… très bien!” Clark’s lilted tone almost made Bruce snort, and if it wasn’t for all those years learning how to control his facial muscles, he would’ve. He really did not need to make this whole thing worse than it already was. They were pretending to be Parisian fashion designers. In the middle of a war between two large crime organizations, that just so happened to use this boutique as a front. And he thought Gotham’s line of villains was colorful.

“Is that the entirety of your vocabulary?” he snickered.

“Stick around and you might learn something.” Clark bit back. It was just too enjoyable to see Bruce lose the grin he so rarely ever wore.

Clark clapped his hands twice, gathering the lithe models in a small circle around him. Bruce begrudgingly followed suit, assuming his role as the obedient assistant. He wrapped a measurement tape around Clark’s neck, smiling gently. Or wickedly. Depending on who you were looking at, Bruce Wayne or Jean Baptiste, PA to renowned tailor Leo Leroy. The names were courtesy of the League of course. They had taken their time, meticulously picking out which French name would suit either best. Hal begged and pleaded the rest to be the one to pick out Bruce’s name but he was sadly turned down for being unprofessional. _Right_. Not that that surprised Bruce but he personally did not want to know what he had in mind for him. Something very similar to a name a French porn star would use, if he had to take a guess.

“Now- Girls… I want you all to pick out the outfits we discussed about and _Jean_ will see to it that you’re all taken care of.”

Bruce tried his best not to look mortified as Clark winked nonchalantly at him. This was not part of the plan, his advances were not supposed to add anything to their cover yet _here they both were_. With Clark’s soft palm on his ass, kneading the skin like he _knew_ what sort of reaction he’d get out of him.

“ _What. Are. You. Doing._?” Bruce whispered through gritted teeth. It was a good thing that close proximity and skinship wasn’t uncommon between Europeans otherwise they’d all be wondering why Clark was practically breathing Bruce’s air. They were hidden behind the dress racks, pretending to observe the details on the party dresses. But not even that would work for as long as they had been staring at the puffy ruffles, not saying a word to each other or at least commenting on the material’s quality.

“My best to seduce my little French _‘chauve souris’_.” He licked his lips, his hand never leaving Bruce’s butt.

He wouldn’t tell, but Clark -for some reason he wasn't planning on looking into- knew _exactly_ how to squeeze and rub his ass over his pants. His underwear was slowly sliding down his smooth cheeks and it was getting hard to concentrate on the end of the dress he was holding.

“ _Are you out of your mind_?” Bruce kept the same quiet tone, swaying his hips, trying to remove Clark’s hands from his body.

“No, I know exactly what I’m doing.” He was firm this time, his hand squeezing down on his butt one last time before wrapping it around Bruce’s waist. “I’m doing what you’ve been too afraid to do all this time.”

Bruce’s heart almost skipped a beat.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” Clark’s voice faded out to a whisper, that was gently caressing Bruce like velvet. “I know how you feel about me. How your heart, just like it did now, skips a beat every time you see me, _mon coeur_.”

It was a cheesy line, one of the cheesiest Bruce had ever heard coming from him, but they _were_ in the city of love.. and it wasn’t them. No it wasn’t them, it was…

Bruce lowered his chin and kissed him, his tongue finding his like a sailor finds the sea. He tasted like he had devoured the pack of choux crème they were supposed to bring back home, and Bruce smiled in the kiss, stealing some of the flavor from the cream.

“Those were expensive you know. And enough to feed more than just the two of us.” He murmured, still feeling hazy from their kiss. He needed more of Clark, to feel his sweet lips enveloping him again. It hadn’t even occurred to him they were being watched by a rather interested audience.

They had started kissing again, Clark’s hands snaking down Bruce’s firm thighs that trembled lightly at the touch. He could hear Bruce’s heartbeat spiking, his every sense invaded by the intense burst of emotions. He lifted him up, momentarily forgetting he wasn’t supposed to be able to haul a 200 pound man with such ease. Bruce deepened their kiss with an audible moan, only stopping to gasp for air between kissing and letting Clark attack his neck with love bites.

Some of the girls were fanning themselves, some other just took to watching the two attractive men tackling each other in a heated exchange of kisses.

“Ah monsieurs ….I don’t mean to interrupt but-“ A brunette approached them, the rest making vague hand gestures trying to discourage her from ruining the moment.

Bruce was the first to detach himself from Clark’s hungry mouth, the realization of what they had been doing for the past five minutes or so, slowly dawning on him. He was still very much up in the air, his legs tightly wrapped around Clark’s waist for support. He couldn’t find the words to speak, mostly because he was still trying to gently drop back to reality.

“Excuse moi, darlings….” Clark decided to do it for him “you know what it’s like when you just…” he looked at Bruce and leaned in, softly biting his jaw “can’t get enough of your _l'amour de ma vie.._ ”

The brunette simply nodded, like she clearly understood the sentiment Clark was trying to convey. She cocked her head to the side, winking at the rest and beckoning them to follow her outside the boutique.

Now that they were alone, he let go of Bruce bit by bit, wanting to relish in the sensation of his body on his. They shared an awkward look, one they’d usually have after bumping into each other and not knowing which side to pick to keep walking.

“ _L’amour de ma vie? C'est vrai?_ ” Bruce cleared his throat, feeling his heart speed up again. His French was as good as the other twenty two languages he had under his belt. He just hoped Clark knew the word for _‘positively’._

“Oui. _C’est Vrai, mon amour.”_ Clark replied, not a single hint of doubt in his voice.

 _He did_.

**Author's Note:**

> this scene from rush hour popped in my head out of nowhere and I just HAD to write this........... p.s I am ......not French so excuse any errors...
> 
> *chauve souris= literally 'bat' (I swear, no idea why it's two words)  
> *mon coeur= my heart  
> *l'amour de ma vie= love of my life  
> *c'est vrai= I mean it. (or something along those lines?)(can't trust translators nowadays)


End file.
